


The Moon, The Stars, and The Sea

by darlingsdarling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Divergence, Dead Dorcas Meadowes, Desi Harry Potter, Desi James Potter, F/F, F/M, Found Family, M/M, Marlene McKinnon Lives, Marlene Raising Harry, Mentioned Marlene/Dorcas, Past Sirius/Marlene, Post-First War with Voldemort, first order of the phoenix, wolfstar raising Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29687958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingsdarling/pseuds/darlingsdarling
Summary: It was the sort of endearing promise James made all the time. For Harry, he would never ride a broom again. For Harry, he would shave off all his hair (a fate worse than death in the eyes of James Potter). For Harry, he would steal the moon.Remus would do the exact same. For Harry Potter, he would steal the moon. He would steal the sun and every star in the night sky. If it came down to it, he would steal the sea and each shell on the ocean floor. For the poor kid finally asleep just a floor above his head, Remus would steal anything.For James and Lily’s son, he wouldn’t think twice.---Sirius, Remus, and Marlene will not allow Harry Potter to grow up believing he is a burden.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 13
Kudos: 34





	1. 2 November, 1981 - Anstruther Cottage: Our Marlene

Remus could hardly steady his hand long enough to pour the boiling water into the mismatched mugs in front of him. He hadn’t slept in thirty-eight hours, the full moon was approaching, and each time Harry cried, Remus lost any semblance of calm he might have collected. 

He was surrounded by scenes of domesticity. It followed him, nearly haunted him everywhere he stepped. Whoever lived in the canary yellow cottage before it had been flipped into an Order safe house left their mark. Someone had grown up in this house, and their height was etched into the frame of the kitchen door with faded ink detailing the month and year of each measurement. There were well-trodden paths in the wooden floor. “ _Happy Birthday, Dad_ ,” was messily carved into one of the mugs Remus had passed over in the cupboard. 

People had lived lives in this house. Probably long, full, average lives filled with birthday candles and rain boots and the sleepy, instinctual kind of love you fall into when you lead a normal life. 

Even knee-deep in domesticity, Remus couldn’t shake the anxiety that pulled against every cell in his body. The fear that rummaged through the furthest corners of his exhausted mind only to dredge up new fears, new problems, new battles to fight in the alienating silence of someone else’s kitchen. 

He rested his hands on the countertop, letting his head hang below his shoulders. It was still cool from the November chill that the fireplace couldn’t quite fight. He hadn’t thought to stuff a jumper into his bag as they fled from their old flat. He hadn’t thought at all. He’d simply grabbed anything he could get his hands on, lone socks, potions, chocolate bars, a half-empty bottle of tequila, the gift they were going to give Harry for Christmas- a set of plush quidditch balls. 

He’d grabbed whatever he laid eyes on first and left, hoping Sirius had given him the right location. Hoping that Dumbledore hadn’t followed them. He hadn’t even bothered to lock the door. Not that it would matter. They wouldn’t be returning anytime soon. 

Scotland was nice, he told himself. It was charming and misty and unapologetically green. Under different circumstances, he and Sirius might have run off to Scotland for holiday anyway. They might have stayed in this exact cottage. 

It was nice, he reassured himself. It was quaint, and more importantly, it was safe from Death Eaters and the prying eyes of the public. 

He poured the rest of the water from the kettle without incident. For a moment, he was almost proud of himself. All he could find on the dusty shelves was earl grey, Sirius probably wouldn’t touch it, but Remus wasn’t making it for him. He was making it for himself, for his sanity. He needed one single thing that he could control. Remus Lupin could not control much, but he could control the tea bag pinched between his fingers. 

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he felt someone pass over the wards he’d cast across the front lawn. He crept from the kitchen to the door, pulling his wand from his back pocket. He opened his mouth to warn Sirius. For him to take Harry and go somewhere, anywhere. Try as he might, Remus didn’t make a sound. What had James shouted in his final moments? Had his stomach been filled with so many knots he nearly vomited out of pure fear? Probably not, James had always been the most daring out of all of them.

The knob turned. The faded blue door creaked, inching tentatively. Then, suddenly, it was flung open, smacking a dent into the wall behind it. 

The familiar face gave him whiplash. In light of recent events, familiar faces meant nothing. He had to remind himself of that.

“Where’s the baby?” Marlene burst through the door, her blonde hair a wild mess of waves and tangles that surrounded her like a mane. Even years after she left the quidditch pitch, she was a lion. That woman was always a Gryffindor. She stared him down with wild, searching eyes, her fist firmly clenched around her wand. 

Remus’s heart pounded in his chest. “How the hell did you find us?”

“Where is he?” 

“How did you find us?” He repeated, squaring his shoulders in hope it would make him look more imposing. 

She raised her wand, a muscle twitching in her jaw. “Remus, where is Harry? They said he was alive, so tell me, _where is my godson?”_

“Upstairs with Padfoot. He hasn’t let him out of his sight since-” His voice cracked. “He’s with Sirius.” Remus hadn’t thought to make sure it was actually McKinnon threatening to kill him. Grief had made him naive. Wasn’t it supposed to work the other way? He should be ruthless and hardened by emotion. He must have left his caution behind with the Potters and the rubble of Godric’s Hollow. 

“He’s safe?” 

He nodded, still in disbelief himself. “He’s safe.” 

“Is he hurt? Dumbledore said that he wa-” 

“He’s fine. Fine as he can be.” 

Something close to relief- if that was even possible after everything they’d been through in the past days, washed over Marlene’s face. Her wand clattered to the floor as her knees buckled out from under her. Her hands caught Remus’s scarred arms in an effort to steady herself, terror and grief shooting through the tips of her trembling fingers. “Did you see them? Did you see Lily?” She managed.

Once again, Remus couldn’t bring himself to speak; the words were stuck somewhere in the back of his throat. If he didn’t say it out loud, it wouldn’t be true. If he didn’t admit James and Lily were dead, they couldn’t be dead. 

“It was quick, I think. They both looked surprised, so I don’t think… I don’t think they had the chance to be scared.” That’s what he chose to believe. It was more comforting than the alternative. More comforting than the idea that James Potter, always too proud, too brave, too _good_ for his own good, rushed Voldemort without his wand and without a second thought to protect his family. That kind of thing was second nature to him. To think that Lily Evans, at just twenty-one years old, threw herself in front of her son’s crib as she begged The Dark Lord to take her instead was enough for Remus to lay down and die right beside them. She was too kind. She was too young. 

It wasn’t true. 

He refused to believe it was true.

Latched onto Remus with an iron grip, Marlene let out a sob- a cry that rattled in his bones and the creaking floorboards of the sleepy old cottage. Thank Merlin, he’d cast a silencing charm. The last thing they needed was a muggle neighbor knocking on their doorstep, asking if everything was alright. The answer was an unequivocal no. She screamed again, and some primal, hidden part of himself that only clawed its way to the surface during full moons was tempted to join her. To scream until his voice ran raw and course and haggard. To let the world know just how much it had lost in the middle of the night when no one was looking. 

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. A proper hug. The kind of hug you only give when the world is falling apart, and you need to be reminded that, against all odds, you’re alive. He held her tight as she sobbed into his shoulder. His tears were silent, but they flowed just as freely. 

A door upstairs whined on its hinges as it opened. “Moony?” Sirius asked, voice like silk, even now. 

“Marlene’s here.” He choked. 

“Our Marlene?” There was a moment of silence interrupted only by the howling wind outside that had roared since the moment they arrived, like the weather was just as outraged as they were. 

She wiped her cheek with her sleeve. “Were you expecting another Marlene?”

“Oh, thank Merlin.”

Marlene bounded up the stairs before Remus even recognized that she left his arms. Her heavy boots threatened to sink through the wooden steps beneath her. “Black,” She greeted breathlessly.

“McKinnon,” 

“You’re alive.” Her voice was strained. “I thought they’d gotten you too. The both of you.” She pressed a kiss into Sirius’s cheek, then another as she threw her arms around him. 

Remus climbed the stairs to join them, his joints groaning much too loudly for his age. Sirius shot him an apologetic look as Marlene continued to cling to him as if he would somehow find a way to be jealous. 

Sirius’s hand ran over her hair. “You found us.” 

“I’ve been checking every safe house I could remember since I found out. I knew that if he was alive, he’d be with you two. You were smart to get him out of England.” 

“I figured that there would be fewer Death Eaters out here. Anstruther’s always been notoriously ordinary.” Remus said. 

“Where’s Harry?” She asked. 

Sirius motioned to the closed door behind him. “Finally asleep, so please keep the wailing to a minimum.” He caught her waist before she could charge forward into the room. “Don’t freak out when you see him.” 

“He’s fine, I swear,” Remus warned. 

Her eyes grew wide. “You said he wasn’t hurt.” She didn’t wait for their explanation. 

“I just put him down, McKinnon, please. He hasn’t slept in ages.” Sirius hissed, following after her. 

“We shouldn't have said anything.”

Sirius fiddled with his wand before placing it behind his ear in the spot usually reserved for cigarettes. “I would have liked a warning.” 

Marlene stood above Harry’s crib, her unsure hands hovering by her side. Her attention was trained entirely on the new lightning bolt scar on his forehead, its branches of pink extending across the dark skin around his eye. He didn’t seem bothered by it. Remus had applied every ointment, cast every healing spell he could think of, but nothing changed. The breath was knocked from his lungs every time he caught sight of that scar. Was the world truly so cruel that Harry would be forced to carry a reminder of his parent’s death for the rest of his life? 

It seemed so.

Marlene’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Oh, Harry. Harry, darling, it’s just not fair.” 

Shoulder to shoulder, Remus and Sirius watched her from the doorway. Sirius’s fingers brushed against his knuckles. He took his hand silently, grasping just a little too tight. Remus was still shaking. 

Harry hardly stirred; he was usually a peaceful baby. Marlene stared down at him for what must have been an hour while Remus and Sirius, in turn, stared at her from the doorway. They were stuck at an emotional stalemate. Just statues of the people they once were, weighed down by responsibility so suddenly, none of them dared to move. There was no next move insight. 

Sirius’s grip grew stronger, his knuckles nearly blanched. Remus hadn’t seen him cry yet. He wasn’t sure how that was possible. Remus could hardly keep himself from bursting into tears at any given moment, but Sirius had been composed since the moment he scooped Harry into his arms.

That brave face could only last so long. Remus half expected the mask to slip and shatter into a thousand pieces then and there. For a moment, so brief he nearly missed it, the mask _did_ fall. Sirius shuttered, his breath suddenly loud and uneven. He ran his free hand roughly across his face as a choking sound escaped his throat. Before Remus could move to comfort him or whisper something in his ear, it was over. Anything he might be feeling pushed back down to a place where Remus and Harry- and now Marlene couldn’t see. He was refusing to give them anything else to worry about. 

Remus still worried. He wanted to give Sirius a place to cry- he should be crying, but he was back in his stoicism, only wavering to rub at his mostly dry eyes. He wanted to bring Sirius some sort of solace. He wanted to share in the sorrow that overwhelmed each of his senses as it washed over him in wave after debilitating wave. 

Remus wanted to help. 

He would settle for holding his hand. Feeling Sirius’s thumb trace the scars on the back of his hand just as he always did when he was lost in thought. The unconscious motion seemed to calm both of their nerves.

Finally satisfied, Marlene turned away from the crib with bloodshot eyes. “We need to talk.” 

\--------------

Sirius sat cross legged in a weathered kitchen chair they had pulled into the sitting room. A cup of tea balanced precariously in his hands. Remus had been right; he didn’t drink any of it. His face tipped back to the unassuming ceiling overhead like he could see straight through into Harry’s room. Marlene had settled on the floor with her back against the coffee table. Her hands were outstretched, reaching toward the fireplace. Remus took a plush armchair that had begun to fray at the edges. 

Sirius broke the silence. “We should write Mary,”

“Mary doesn’t want to be wrapped up in this. She made that clear.” Marlene said. 

“Wrapped up in this?” Sirius asked, disbelief coloring his pale face. The war had exaggerated his already sharp features. “James and Lily are dead!” 

“Oh, really?” She shot back, nostrils flaring. “Is that so?”

“We’re not asking her to fight, but don’t you think she would want to see him?” Sirius shook his head. Deep rings of purple hung under his eyes. “Does she even know what happened?” 

“Everyone in the Wizarding World knows what happened.” Marlene’s fingers rested against her lips. “I heard Harry’s name more times than I could count when I was tracking you down. Secrets don’t last long when they’re given to Albus Dumbledore. That man is worse than any school girl.” 

Remus drained his mug, remnants of warmth trailed down his throat. The comfort it brought him disappeared before he opened his mouth to speak. “We really should write Mary.” 

“So Malfoy can intercept it and finish what Voldemort started?” 

“She’s our friend.” Remus knew just how childish he sounded, but friends were few and far between these days. He’d like to keep track of the ones he had left. 

“Like Peter?” 

Sirius clamped his eyes shut. There was a pang in Remus’s chest. “We’re not talking about Peter. Mary isn’t like Peter.” 

Mary wasn’t a traitor. 

Mary wasn’t a coward. 

“We should have known when he threw himself at the chance to be their secret keeper. I should have known.” Marlene threw her head back, possessed by an unnatural fit of laughter. “He was a rat! A rat, and we never put the pieces together. It’s absurd.” She made a half-hearted attempt to stifle the laughter with the palm of her hand. _“A goddamn rat.”_

Remus shook his head. “We couldn’t have known. We never had a reason to think he would do this. That he could do this. Peter was never the duplicitous type.” 

“It didn’t come out of fucking nowhere,” Sirius said. “People don’t change that suddenly. There had to be something. He’s always been a horrible liar, and he never slipped? Not once? We missed something, Moony.”

“And there’s nothing we can do about it now. _They’re already dead_. _”_ The admission felt foreign on his tongue. “Retracing every conversation we had with him won’t change that. Even if we figure when he turned- if he turned, no one can take back those killing curses. It doesn’t matter anymore.” Was he scolding them or scolding himself? Truthfully, he couldn’t tell, and he doubted they knew either. 

“We missed something,” Sirius insisted with steepled hands. 

Remus was acutely aware of how tightly his fists were clenched. “We missed a lot, apparently.” 

Marlene drew her knees to her chest. She rocked back and forth in her heels, letting firelight move up and down her face, casting long, distorted shadows behind her. “We should wait, at least. Let things calm down before we send any owls.” 

“Fine,” Sirius agreed with a huff. “Whatever we need to do for Harry.” Silence settled over them once more. They were in agreement. None of them had to speak to understand that. Anything they would have to do for Harry, they would do, unquestionably. 

James used to joke that he would steal the moon for his son. It was the sort of endearing promise James made all the time. For Harry, he would never ride a broom again. For Harry, he would shave off all his hair (a fate worse than death in the eyes of James Potter). _For Harry, he would steal the moon._

Remus would do the exact same. For Harry Potter, he would steal the moon. He would steal the sun and every star in the night sky. If it came down to it, he would steal the sea and each shell on the ocean floor. For the poor kid finally asleep just a floor above his head, Remus would steal anything. 

The moon, the stars, and the sea all in one night if he asked for them. 

For James and Lily’s son, he wouldn’t think twice.

“Either of you know how to raise a kid?” Marlene asked a bit rhetorically. Her voice wavered at the terrifying question. 

Remus almost laughed. Hogwarts hadn’t prepared them for anything like this. Their professors had been too busy grooming them for war to worry about such silly things. Family, love, compassion those were not subjects you taught to soldiers if you wanted them to die for you. Every self-respecting headmaster knew that. 

Sirius took a labored breath before pulling himself from his seat, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor. “I need a cigarette.” He pointed his eyes to Remus, “Come get me if Harry wakes up, okay?”

Remus nodded. “Of course.” 

“I don’t want him to think he’s alone again.” He said hoarsely. An unlit cigarette rested between two of his long fingers. “Want one?” He asked Marlene. 

“Those things will kill you.” 

He sat back on his hip, still a glimmer in rebellion in those grey eyes of his. That was why he started smoking in the first place. Muggles smoked cigarettes when they were rebellious- that’s what they said in Muggle Studies anyway. “I didn’t ask if they were good for you. I asked if you wanted one. It’s something to take the edge off.” 

After a beat, Marlene defeatedly held her hand up, allowing Sirius to pull her from the ground. She crossed her arms in front of her chest as she left. The hysterical laughter was long gone, now replaced with a contorted expression of anguish. She left wordlessly. 

Sirius’s hand grazed the back of Remus’s neck as he left to join her. “Get me if you need me, Moony.” 

He murmured something incoherent in response. 

Alone in the sitting room, accompanied by nothing but the crackling sound of the fire and his own thoughts, Remus closed his eyes and allowed the stillness of the room to consume him. Stale, dusty air filled his lungs. The nothing of it all was strangely comforting. Marlene and Sirius were talking about something, but he couldn’t muster the strength to listen in on their conversation. It felt intrusive to eavesdrop on them even though Sirius would surely relay all the information back to him later. 

He didn’t listen. He simply sat with his thoughts and fought against the heaviness of his eyelids. 


	2. 2 November 1981 - Anstruther Cottage: Nearly Noon

With Sirius Black, one cigarette was never actually one cigarette. Even if he had meant for it to be just one, Marlene McKinnon was not known for her self-control. She’d never possessed an ounce of it in her life. So a single cigarette turned into six by the time the first hints of sunlight forced its way over the horizon. Quiet, muffled conversation passed easily between the two of them with smoke on their lips and tired understanding in their eyes.

Remus sat alone, forcing himself up the stairs to check on Harry every time sleep crept too close for his comfort or the anxiety became unbearable. He worried that he wouldn’t wake if Harry cried or got abducted or pulled the curtain rod down onto himself. Yes, he’d survived a killing curse, but he was still just a kid. After his fourth trip up, Remus finally planted himself in the rocking chair in the corner. 

Harry was bigger now than the last time Remus saw him. Marlene had called him a baby when she barged inside, ready to cast a not yet created fourth unforgivable curse, but Harry wasn’t a baby. Not anymore. He was already the spitting image of his father. Brown skin, a shock of perpetually unruly black hair, if it wasn’t for the bright green eyes and newly acquired scar, he would have been a carbon copy of James. Harry wasn’t a baby anymore, but Remus couldn’t help but wonder how much he would remember. 

Would he have any memory of his parents at all? 

That question in particular stung. There was no way Remus would be able to convey just how incredible James and Lily had been. He couldn’t bottle up James Potter’s laugh. He couldn’t boil down Lily’s essence into words. The Potter’s were once-in-a-lifetime type people. Any description he cobbled together in his mind didn’t begin to compare. 

He rubbed at his tired eyes. He was driving himself mad sitting in the dark because, for a moment, he could have sworn he saw Marlene staring back at him from the open door with her hand outstretched. He blinked, and she was gone- just some figment of his overactive imagination. The darkened hallway was left eerily vacant, showing no trace of Marlene McKinnon. The room, nearly imperceptibly, grew darker. 

Remus didn’t have much time to dwell on that before his mind wandered back to James and Lily. They had permanently set up shop in his mind. Even as he tried to busy himself by focusing on the sunrise that peaked through the nursery window, they found a way back into his thoughts. He appreciated the company, truly. He missed them already. But, when sleep finally caught him, pulling him headfirst into the void of unconsciousness, Remus didn’t fight particularly hard against it. Not this time. He couldn’t help but welcome James and Lily’s absence. 

No, it wasn’t their absence, he welcomed. He didn’t have much, but Remus would give anything to get them back. If he could trade places with them, he wouldn’t think twice. He didn’t welcome their absence; he welcomed the merciful nothingness that sleep brought him. The momentary lack of heartache he felt when there was just a centimeter of space in between their deaths and the front of his mind. He could breathe easier if only for a few hours. 

He hadn’t slept in days. 

Remus woke with a start, an assaulting ray of sunlight shining directly into his corneas. A leather jacket had been draped around his torso like a blanket. There was no sight of Harry in his crib. Remus did a double-take, his heart suddenly dropping to his feet.

 _Harry_. 

He launched himself from the room, nearly tumbling as he raced down the staircase he’d become so familiar with. ‘Where’s _Harry?’_ Played on repeat in his mind. Was he truly so oblivious that he let Harry disappear out from under his nose? He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he caught sight of Marlene with Harry beside her. There was a pile of blocks in front of the two of them that Harry entirely ignored in favor of a ring of keys. Who the keys belonged to was a mystery to Remus. 

“Something wrong, Lupin?” 

Remus blinked, searching for a shred of coherence. “Yeah, I- uh, I just woke up, and he was gone. I thought he was…” He waved his hand, pushing his last sentence to the side. “I’m fine. Sorry. What time is it?” 

She searched the room for a clock. “Nearly noon.” 

“You should have woken me up.” 

“You needed to sleep.” 

“I was fine.” He insisted. Remus liked to think he was a person that valued truth and honesty, but after a lifetime of keeping nearly every aspect of his identity a secret in the name of survival, he’d become a master at lying through his teeth. 

It seemed that Marlene had commandeered a black and white flannel from Remus’s bag. She probably hadn’t had the chance to pack a bag before finding them. “Now you’re fine and well-rested.” 

“You should have woken me.” He reiterated. 

Marlene lowered her voice like there was someone in the house that might overhear. “When was the last time you slept? The full moon’s tomorrow night.” 

“When was the last time _you_ slept?” He deflected. He knew exactly how long it was until the next full moon. He could feel the countdown ticking in his screaming joints, the hours he could never get back slipping through his fingers like running water. The pain, the lethargy, the anger all operated like clockwork. 

“You took a nap, Remus. It’s not a big deal. Black’s asleep too.” She motioned towards the kitchen with her head. Sirius sat slumped over the kitchen table, his forearms acting as a pillow. His hair hung in front of his face. Free of false composure, he looked peaceful in his sleep. 

With an exasperated breath, Remus joined them on the floor. “I can take over if you need a break.” 

“Take over? Harry and I are having a great time.” She pulled him into her lap. “Right, Harry? We’re having a great time paying attention to these keys and keeping away from the fire and the stairs and the doors and knives. So many knives in this house for some reason.” She winced as Harry yanked at a lock of her hair. “Do you think Lily was ever this terrified?” 

“I don’t think Lily was terrified by anything.” He admitted. It was hard for Remus to picture her as anything but an unwavering streak of scarlet confidence. Chin jutted in the air, determined to prove she was just as powerful as the purebloods that lobbed insults at her as she passed them by. Not that she had to prove anything, Lily was always the smartest person in the room. 

“You’re probably- Ouch! Harry that hurts.” He only giggled in response. A sentimental smile broke across Marlene’s face. She blinked back tears so quickly Remus nearly didn’t notice. “Your father’s son through and through, aren’t you?” She asked. 

Harry had already moved on, his attention shifting to the frayed collar of Remus’s shirt. “Almost like James is his middle name.” He said quietly, doing his best not to wake Sirius. He deserved to rest.

She shook her head. “You don’t need to whisper. He won’t be waking up anytime soon.” 

“Sorry?” 

“I think we’ve got two hours left until he comes to.” She said casually. She looked at the clock once more, “Two sounds right.” 

Remus pulled his brow into a furrow. “Did you cast something on him?” 

“I knew you two wouldn’t sleep otherwise.” 

His jaw fell open. Harry promptly and disgustingly stuck his tiny hand into Remus’s mouth. “Us two? You cast a sleeping charm on me?” 

“I had to.” She insisted. 

“You can’t just cast shit on us. What if something happened? What if we had to get away and we were both knocked out?” 

She placed her hands squarely on her hips. “I used magic to put you to sleep. Do you think it’s possible I could have used magic to wake you back up?” 

“That’s not the point. You know that’s not the point.”

“You needed to sleep. Do you know what happens to people when they don’t sleep? They die.” She took a sharp breath in pulling half the air in the room into her lungs. “I would really appreciate it if people around me stopped dying. So yes, I cast Bewitched Sleep on you. I don’t even feel the slightest bit sorry about it. If I need to, I’ll do it again because I need _you_ alive.” 

The war had cost Marlene the love of her life. It had taken her family and her best friend. Remus had lost track of how many members of The Order they’d lost in the past few years. She’d never admit just how taxing the war had been on her, but the patch of premature grey she couldn’t hide, no matter how hard she tried, spoke for itself. The tension in Remus’s shoulders dropped, but some part of him continued to stand on edge. “You know that I didn’t mean to worry you, but until you got here, it was just the two of us.” 

“I know,” She touched her hand to his cheek. “But, I need you to do me a favor and stay alive. Okay?” 

“I’ll do my best.” Was the closest thing he could make to a promise. 

She patted his knee. “Thank you. Harry, darling, put that down. No, that’s- please don’t eat that. Harry, get that beetle out of your mouth. It’s not food!” Marlene jumped to her feet, chasing after him. “When did he get fast?” 

An actual laugh escaped Remus’s lips, a feat he figured was impossible these days, but he couldn’t help it as he watched Marlene run after a toddling, giggling Harry, who managed to evade her with impressive speed. “He’s always been fast.” 

“Not this fast.” She plucked Harry from the ground, batting the dead beetle from his hands. “You’re going to be an all-star quidditch player.” She turned to Remus. “He’s going to be an incredible seeker. Oh! Or, a chaser like his aunt Marlene.” 

“He’s a year old.” 

“That just means we have ten years to train him before we send him off to play for Gryffindor.” Her smile fell as she studied Harry’s face. “ _Ten years,_ ” She whispered to herself before kissing the top of his head. “You know, when Lily asked me to be his godmother, I didn’t think it would ever come to anything.” She pulled Harry close, much to his protest. Her arms wrapped around him like he might turn to smoke and slip from her grasp. “I don’t think she thought it would come to mean anything either.” 

Even after Dumbledore sat everyone down and informed them of the prophecy, no one thought James, Lily, and Harry would be at the end of Voldemort’s wand. Not really. Sure, it could have been them, but it didn’t have to be. As cruel and selfish as it sounded, Remus had always assumed it would be the Longbottom’s. The Potters were not the subjects of Trelawney’s prophecy. Remus never allowed the possibility that they were to cross his mind. How could it be them if they were kept hidden away in Godric’s Hollow, leaving barely a trace of themselves behind? 

How would Voldemort begin to find them with Pete acting as their secret keeper? Peter Pettigrew, one of the first people to ever show Remus a shred of kindness, had sworn to keep them safe. They were supposed to be safe. 

Marlene and Sirius were meant to be godparents in name only. They were Harry’s fun aunt and uncle that were destined to spoil him and act as a bad influence if they needed to. They were never meant to actually step into the role. 

James had pulled Remus aside the day Sirius and Marlene had been asked. It was one of the last parties they’d thrown, and even in wartime, no expense had been spared. Booze passed between everyone, but Lily, who at eight months pregnant, had murder in her eyes and a hand perpetually resting on her stomach. Fireworks, always fireworks with that lot, caused chaos under the high ceilings of the Manor. Remus had done his best to disguise his crestfallenness, but he was a sloppy drunk- an honest drunk who tended to mutter under his breath and lose total control of his facial expressions. James and Lily were his best friends, and they couldn’t bring themselves to trust Remus with their son. 

He was a werewolf, after all. There were some conditions that even the closest of friends simply couldn’t overlook. 

_“We haven’t forgotten about you.” James had said. His voice low, his arm thrown around Remus’s shoulder. “We need someone to look after baby number two.” He’d said, his eyes alight. “And baby three. Baby four.”_

_“Sorry, Baby four?” Harry hadn’t even been born yet._

_“Lily’s set on three, but honestly, I think four’s my lucky number. Four Marauders, four Quidditch Cups, four kids will be perfect.” He gasped, nearly spilling his drink onto the floor. “What if they all end up in different houses? Has that ever happened before?”_

_Remus had chuckled into his cup. “You know, I’m not sure.”_

_“You’ve seen how down Padfoot’s been recently. After everything with his parents- with Regulus…” James shook his head. “Point is, he needs this right now. Who his godfather is doesn’t even matter. You’re all just gonna be Uncle Sirius, Uncle Remus, Uncle Peter. At the end of the day, the title doesn’t really mean anything. Did you hear that McKinnon wants to be Aunt Marley? I’ve never called her Marley in my life.” That man could never tell a story without telling five others in the process. “I’m getting distracted! Anyway, godfather Moony is in the cards. When the war’s over, you’ll have more kids to look after than you’d ever want. You’ll be swimming in diapers.”_

_“Absolutely disgusting, Prongs.”_

James had continued on, blabbering about what everyone wanted to be called, the due date versus when he thought the baby was _actually_ coming, and he and Lily’s plans for the future. Remus had only half listened, too preoccupied with the weight lifting off his shoulders to catch everything he said. Now, he couldn’t help but wish he’d paid closer attention to every single thing James told him in the ten years they’d known each other. He should have written it all down to look back on now. He should have tattooed it in ink somewhere. He should have done something, but Remus never imagined that he would have to live in a world devoid of James Potter. 

So sure of their resilience, there was never a moment Remus Lupin truly considered how things could end. James and Lily dead. Harry orphaned. Peter missing, disguised by his cowardice. Remus, Sirius, and Marlene left to pick up the pieces even as they themselves fell apart. None of it was right. It didn’t make any sense. 

Remus pulled himself from the excruciating memories, his attention once again on Marlene and Harry, but there was little respite there. Why did he have to look like James? Why did Harry’s eyes have to be identical to Lily’s? Out of every shade of green, the universe had to choose emerald? He shook his shoulders, hoping the grief plaguing every aspect of himself would simply shake off and fall to the floor he was sitting on. 

It didn’t. 

In fact, the pain only intensified. Swelling in his chest, it threatened to burst from his mouth in the form of a scream, through his tear ducts in a fit of crying he would never be able to stop. Through the top of his head, it might just overtake the migraine that pounded in his skull before every full moon. 

Remus pressed his fingers against his temples.

“Okay, Lupin?” Marlene asked for the second time in five minutes. 

He shrugged. “Like you said earlier, full moon.”

“Have you thought about where you’re going to go? You should take Black. I know that’s what you guys usually do.” Conveniently, she didn’t mention that James and Peter had been through countless moons with him as well. 

“No.” He said, sucking air through his teeth. “No, Sirius needs to be with you and Harry. I’ll be fine.” 

“If you’re worried about me,” She began. 

Remus didn’t allow her to finish. “I did it on my own for fourteen years. I can handle one transformation by myself. There’s a patch of forest down past docks; it looks pretty deserted. The trees are thick. If I cast a couple wards beforehand, no one should know I’m there.” 

“You shouldn’t have to be alone.”

“And you should? I’m not a child Mckinnon.” He snapped, sharper than he meant to. He pressed on against his better judgment. “I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself. I’ve done it for a long time.” 

Marlene’s eyes tracked him as he moved. “I know that you-” 

“I’m not some toddler that needs to be told when to eat and sleep. I’ll be fine.” 

Tilting her head to the side, she opened her mouth to speak before stopping herself. Without bothering to reach for her wand, Marlene waved her hand, dispelling the sleeping charm on Sirius, who jolted awake, his head bumping against the wooden kitchen table. Remus always forgot about her proclivity for wandless magic- mostly because her mastery of it terrified him. “Harry, darling, go find Sirius. Remus and I are going for a chat.” 

The grass was high. Bristling in the wind that still howled ferociously, it lapped against his calves. It was too cold for either of them to be outside. If Remus was in his right mind, he would have marched right back inside. 

“We have a kid to look after,” Marlene said, leaning into the windchill. 

“I’m well aware,” 

“So stop acting like a prick.”

“You cast a sleeping charm on me against my will because it made _you_ feel better. You’re lecturing _me_ about the full moon. And I’m the prick?” The fuller the moon got, the easier anger sat under his skin, inviting him to lash out in a flurry of sharp words and hexes and claws. Succumbing to the lycanthropy had never been more appealing than it had been this week. 

“Harry’s life just fell apart; he needs stability. He needs the adults in his life to function. You can’t function if you’re so sleep-deprived you can hardly stand. You’re certainly not functioning if you get shot by some townie that spots you in the woods. I’m not a healer. Both of us know Black can’t heal for shit.” 

Remus’s life fell apart the moment he had to step over James Potter’s corpse in order to save his son. How could Remus even begin to _‘function’?_ How was he supposed to breathe? 

“What do you want me to do, Marlene?” He asked bitterly. 

Her eyes were closed as the wind swept through her hair, tendrils of blonde and grey whipping directionessly. “I want you to stay alive.” 

“We’ve already talked about this.” 

“And you didn’t listen. I want you to stay alive.” She still refused to look at him. “I can’t do this without you.” 

Remus had started pacing at some point. His legs were moving on their own accord, sorrow, and confusion keeping his body in perpetual motion. Even if he wanted to stop, he doubted he would be able to. The ground was frozen under his feet. “The moon’s messing with my head,” Remus admitted trying to push down the emotion that rose in his throat like bile. “It always does.” 

“I know. That’s why I didn’t punch you for being a prat.” 

He decided to let that remark slide. He probably deserved a punch to the face. “You said you can’t do this without me, but I don’t know how to do this. Any of this.” 

Marlene didn’t speak for a moment. Remus expected some inspiring message, perhaps some well-thought-out encouragement. “Then I guess that makes two of us.” She replied.


	3. 2 November 1981 - Anstruther Cottage: Padfoot

Remus didn’t know what he was expecting to face when he walked back into Anstruther Cottage, just as conflicted and terrified as when he left, but it certainly wasn’t Padfoot. Running circles around Harry, the black dog yapped and howled with his snout upturned, eliciting laughter and clapping from his godson. He jumped up and down, sitting back on his hind legs, pulling his paws close to his chest. Harry turned his face upward, doing his best imitation of the dog; he let loose some approximation of a high-pitched howl that cut through the dusty air like a siren. Merlin, they were adorable. It was one of those storybookish scenes that was so sweet the very sight of them made Remus’s teeth ache. 

With his hand resting on the faded and peeling wallpaper, Remus paused in the entry hoping to drink up every detail of the vignette unfolding in front of him. The second glimpse of hope and light he’s seen since Halloween night, he wanted to remember it. He wanted to let the gold-tinted exuberance settle over his skin like a blanket he could use to protect himself from the growing cold.

“Black,” Marlene said, maternal exacerbation in her voice but a suppressed smile on her lips. “Good to see that sleep did you some good.” For a moment, she sounded just like Professor McGonagall, pretending not to be amused by their antics. Remus missed their old transfiguration professor, stern lessons, kind eyes, and an open office door; she’d done her best to convince _‘The Marauders’_ (a nickname she’d personally given them) not to join The Order of the Phoenix. In her opinion, they were far too young, too bright to join such an organization. Even so, she didn’t seem surprised when they did it anyway. She was the only professor Remus didn’t want to say goodbye to on graduation day. Wise beyond her years, even though he wasn’t exactly sure how old she was, McGonagall always knew what to do. If he wrote to her now, she would probably have the words of advice that he desperately craved. But he, Marlene, and Sirius had come to an agreement last night: no owls yet. Not until they were sure it was safe. 

Padfoot ran between Remus’s legs, nearly tripping him in the process. “Morning, Sirius.” Technically, the afternoon had already taken hold of them ages ago as Marlene and Remus stood in the cold, alternating between mournful conversation and shouting their frustrations into the wind that carried away each syllable faster than it left their lips. Remus found himself stuttering as he tried to compete with the gale. Part of him worried he would be stuck out there forever, listing every tragedy and trauma he’d ever endured.

He yelled about Peter and his betrayal that had happened so suddenly; thinking about it sent Remus spiraling. How could someone ever _ever_ betray their closest friends? How could someone turn so quickly? Voldemort, his demented ideals of purity and power that conflicted with every aspect of human nature and the real world. His stupid obsession with snakes. Dumbledore for enticing them with tales of heroism and victory and justice from the moment the sorting hat was placed on their heads only to dump them in the middle of a war. Greyback for stealing his childhood, his autonomy, his shot at normalcy. 

Frustration towards James and Lily for daring to be dead. For leaving behind a son who deserved to be loved and looked after in a way Remus wasn’t sure he was capable of providing. For leaving behind a decade worth of memories and companionship that would haunt him every day for the rest of his life as he was forced to carry on, knowing the best people he’d ever met were gone. 

All of it was selfish. Remus knew it was selfish as he yelled into the biting cold, but that hadn’t deterred him, not even for a moment. 

After his greeting, Padfoot trotted away into the sitting room, his nails scraping against the floor. He settled into a loveseat, Harry climbing up after him in a feat of athleticism that nearly gave Remus a heart attack. The kid was too fearless for his own good, just one more way he took after his parents. 

Sirius stayed as Padfoot for far longer than Remus expected. Cuddled up in a ball beside Harry, they sat until afternoon bled into evening and then dusk without any change in temperature or sunlight. He didn’t complain as Harry, not entirely in control of limbs yet, tugged at his ears and pet the well-groomed black dog with uncontrolled enthusiasm. _“Puppy!”_ Harry repeated over and over again. At just fifteen months old, it was one of the only words he knew, but he made good use of it by barely allowing a silent moment to pass without interjecting to tell Remus all about his newfound friend. His incoherent babbling occasionally interrupted with his new favorite word: _“Puppy!”_

Even as Remus and Marlene scoured the kitchen to cobble together the closest thing to a meal they could, Sirius stayed as Padfoot, not touching his eggs and oatmeal- not that anyone could blame him for that. Despite his heightened senses, Remus couldn’t taste any of the grey mush as it passed over his tongue. He didn’t know if that was a condition of his and Marlene’s cooking abilities or if his body was simply shutting down, refusing to process this new reality. At the very least, Harry seemed to like it, and that’s all that really mattered anyway.

Dinner passed as everything in Anstruther Cottage passed, ordinarily- excruciatingly ordinarily like nothing was wrong in the first place. Like the scene of Harry living with the big black dog and his not quite aunt and uncle was a totally normal, not at all devastating, turn of events. It struck Remus, as he scrubbed at a dinner plate, not bothering to use a household spell, that to the outside world, the four of them probably looked very normal. 

“How worried should we be about this?” Marlene asked, her voice low, almost entirely masked by the running water. 

“Padfoot? I think he’s just trying to keep Harry entertained.” 

“For six hours?” 

He set the plate back into the sink. “He and James used to do this type of thing all the time. If they didn’t want to answer my questions, they’d transform. You can’t respond if you’re a dog or a stag. They knew I’d drop it eventually.” Remus’s mind flashed to sixth year, Padfoot and Prongs in a wrestling match in the middle of their dormitory, much to the chagrin of both Peter and Remus. “I haven’t been asking him many questions recently, so I’m not sure what he’s avoiding.” 

“Out of the two of you, he worries me most.” She said. 

“Thanks?” 

Marlene rolled her eyes. “I always know how you’re going to respond. I can tell when you’re going to snap and be an ass. I can never tell with him. There are habits he picked up when he was young, and he…” She trailed off. There was no need to delve into the cruelty of the Black Family or what Sirius had to do to survive. They’d both seen the lash marks branded across his back, his shoulder blades. They’d heard the shake in his voice when he talked about his father. There was no reason to rehash old tragedies. “When he slips back into that, I can’t get a read on him.” 

Remus turned his eyes back to the dishes, scrubbing even as the last remnants of food were long gone. “He’s trying not to worry anyone.” 

“It’s not working.” 

They could hear distant barking through the walls. “Trying, not succeeding.” Remus remarked. “He’s being all noble about it.” He was descended from the Noble House of Black after all. He would let Harry, Remus, and Marlene grieve openly: sobbing in the doorway, screaming into the wind, ripping picture frames from the walls. He would let them fall apart, and he would refuse to give them another person to worry about. At the very least, he would try. “I’m worried about him too.” 

Marlene grimaced. “Should we say something? We should probably say something.” 

“He’s not going to answer when he’s a dog. That’s the whole point.” 

Marlene hoisted herself onto the kitchen counter. She was constantly perched on a countertop, the back of a sofa, or sprawled out on the floor. Even in their classes, Remus had never seen her sit in a chair like a normal person. There was always a leg thrown somewhere, a boot pressed against a wall. She’d said once it was more comfortable that way, but with one foot propped against the oven the other hooked around the handle of a cabinet, he wasn’t sure how that was possible. 

“Is it because his birthday’s tomorrow?” 

“His birthday isn’t until the third.”

Marlene seemed to sit straighter, suddenly proud of herself. “Remus, what do you think today is?” 

He froze. Time wasn’t what it used to be. Day and night blended into each other with little differentiation and even less warning. Yes, Remus knew how long he had until his transformation, but keeping track of that came as easily as breathing. It was an instinctual, probably animalistic habit that had nothing to do with knowing what day it was and was everything to do with survival: his own survival and the survival of everyone around him. 

“I didn’t get him anything.” He did his best to make the comment seem light-hearted, but birthdays were a big deal for Remus and Sirius. With each of them enduring eleven shitty birthdays before they met one another, they’d established an unspoken pact: the next eleven birthdays would more than makeup for it. The brightest star in the night sky making another trip around the sun was something to be celebrated. It was an event Remus believed should be shouted from the rooftops, and yet, as Sirius’s twenty-second birthday approached, hovering just centimeters above their heads, the pact had been broken. There wouldn’t be any extravagant parties or rose-colored revelry on November Third. 

No gifts, no cake, no celebratory day drinking. 

Just Marlene, Sirius, and Remus locked inside with a child to look after and torment to sift through. It was nowhere close to what he deserved. 

“We could still get him something.” Marlene offered, her words falling hollow. If they were too scared to send a letter to one of their closest friends, they certainly couldn’t pop into a shop looking for a birthday gift. One could not just pick something up off a shelf for Sirius Black; he could afford anything he wanted. He had more money than Remus could possibly conceive of. No, they couldn’t simply find something for him at Anstruther’s one and only general store; that was more insulting than getting him nothing at all. 

Remus shook his head. “That’s not a good idea.”

With that, the topic of Sirius’s wellbeing seemed to fall to the wayside as Remus washed and then rewashed the dishes. The palpable concern didn’t wane. Not in the slightest. Marlene was chewing at her fingernails with such ferocity, Remus feared she was going to chew straight through to the bone. They were both concerned, that was obvious, but Sirius Black was a stubborn man. If he didn’t want to break, he wouldn’t break. He would stick to his guns, even if it killed him. 

Their day continued on strangely and ordinarily all at once as Remus floated between the groundedness of reality and his thoughts which were far kinder, far softer than anything the real world had to offer him. Perhaps that’s how Sirius felt as Padfoot, like the world that passed him by, was muted somehow if he wasn’t acting as himself. Color is supposed to be less vivid from a dog’s point of view. Was emotion less vivid too? 

Remus would never really be able to know what happened in the mind of Sirius Black no matter how desperately he wanted to. He took to exploring the cottage to distract himself.

There was a bookshelf in the spare room Marlene had claimed, packed full of nothing but muggle books. Remus hadn’t read a muggle book since he left his mother’s house years ago. Half of them were romance novels with scantily clad love interests on the front and dog-eared pages that hardly clung to their cheap bindings. While he wasn’t above a good mass-produced, raunchy paperback, Remus passed over each of them. He found himself gravitating towards the top shelf. Even at well over six feet tall, Remus had to rise on his toes to pull the dust-covered book from the shelf. 

Bound in green leather and adorned with chains of white flowers that climbed their way up the thick spine, the book in Remus’s hands was far heavier than it appeared. He ran a finger over the deep engraving across the front cover: _Hamlet_. It was one of those books that everyone is supposed to read within their lifetime, meaning Remus had done everything in his power to avoid it. 

William Shakespeare was a prat that simply had a knack for putting quill to paper.

Remus kept the book anyway, tucking the tome and its gilded edges under his arm as his eyes flicked over the rest of the eclectic spines that were arranged in no particular order. An atlas stood beside a collection of fairy tales, a cookbook, and another one of those supermarket romance novels that littered the shelves. He grabbed every children’s book he could find, setting them aside for Harry. He was Lily Evans’ son. He’d probably be reading the books to himself in a matter of months. By the time he picked through the entire collection, the pile of books he’d chosen for Harry measured nearly to his hips.

It took him three trips to get them all to the bare bones nursery upstairs. Furnished with nothing but a rocking chair they found in the attic and the crib Remus had stolen from the Potter’s, it was devoid of the comfort and warmth Harry was used to. Sirius had done his best to make the room resemble Harry’s old nursery, but there was little they could do. The notion was sweet, nonetheless. He found a spot for Goodnight Moon, Cinderella’s Tale, and whatever else he snagged in the corner beside the plush quidditch set. 

Remus wouldn’t get to read anything to Harry that night. He’d exhausted himself with Padfoot. After hours of jumping and giggling and chasing after the dog’s tail, he practically collapsed into Marlene’s arms, a panting, dramatic mess. “Have you just made him run a marathon or something?” She asked the dog sitting patiently at her feet. “I guess it’s off to bed early for you.” Harry didn’t protest, although Remus wasn’t sure what he understood and what he didn’t. James had read every parenting and baby book he could get his hands on, devouring pages like he was studying for a final exam. He’d rattled off the months and statistics of when babies say their first words, take their first steps, when they first recognize themselves, from memory. James would have known. James had probably told him. 

There was a throughline Remus found laced through each thought that popped into his head. He should have listened. _He should have written it down._ He had been so blind, he thought they were indestructible. He’d been naive and reckless and unappreciative. 

“Alright Harry, say goodnight.” Marlene said. Harry, in fact, did not say goodnight partially because he couldn’t, but mostly because he was already knocked out with his cheek pressed against Marlene’s shoulder. “Sirius, say goodnight to your godson.” She nudged the dog with her foot. 

Padfoot simply stood on his hind legs, licked at Harry, and backed away. 

Marlene sighed, “Fine.” Her eye’s met Remus’s, disappointment and concern lingering in her gaze. 

“Night, Harry,” Remus said softly to the cherubic face in front of him.

“Lads,” Marlene said, her foot barely on the first step, “I think I’m going to turn in early too. Sleep well, or try at least.” Remus found her gaze once more, her eyes growing wide for a moment as if to tell him _, ‘I’m leaving so you can talk to Sirius. Don’t mess this up.’_

Remus and Padfoot were alone in the sitting room. Not Remus and Sirius- Remus and Padfoot alone with nothing but the fire and one another to keep them company as if they were seventeen again, staying up in the Gryffindor Common Room as everyone else in the school settled into their beds. They simply stood and stared at each other for a while, unsure of what they were supposed to do. Remus didn’t know where to begin, so he didn’t. He just sat on the loveseat that Harry and Padfoot were so attached to and flipped open the copy of Hamlet he’d snagged. 

There was an indecipherable smudge on the front page resembling a signature. Another reminder of the lives that were lived in this house long before the four of them had stumbled upon it. Remus wasn’t entirely sure why finding traces of the previous occupants felt so bittersweet, but there was an ache in his chest as he turned the page and found more annotations, these much easier to read. They mostly consisted of translations, purple ink detailing exactly what the archaic language was saying. 

Padfoot climbed onto the loveseat, settling easily. He rested his head on Remus’s lap as he flipped through the first scene, relying almost entirely on the purple notes jotted in the margins. In the second scene, translation turned to commentary, only once. The line was probably meant to be poignant and moving. Maybe, if you saw it performed on stage, it was, but the note left behind only made Remus smile. 

**_Scene II, Line 75: “Thou know’st ’tis common; all that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity.”_ ** _\- Bullshit. Who says I can’t live forever?_

That was the only time Remus saw a piece of the original owner shine through the annotations. The only time they felt moved enough to input their own opinion. There was nothing written about Ophelia as she fell into the brook. Nothing about the sword fights, the madness, the deadly poison, and even deadlier wit. Just a single line of rebellion against the preposterous idea that everything must die. He read through the rest of the play. The acts blurred into one another, reliable notetaking allowing Remus to speed through it in a matter of hours. He could only hope that the previous owner was still alive as he neared the last act. That they had avoided the tragic end, Shakespeare might have arranged for them if only he was still around. Whoever it was deserved a fate better than that of Ophelia or Gertrude or Rosencrantz. 

Remus couldn’t help but feel a strange familiarity with Shakespearean tragedy. That was a terrifying admission to make. 

By the time his eyes grazed the last word, midnight had crept up on him, time once again alluding Remus’s comprehension. 

“Happy birthday, Sirius,” Remus said quietly, his fingers tracing patterns in Padfoot’s fur. “I, uh, I’m sorry that this one isn’t going to measure up.” He paused, hoping that Sirius would transform back into himself then and there. “I’m sorry about everything, how awful the world is. It’s unfair. It’s all just unfair. I know that… for a long time you had to suffer alone, but I don’t want you to ever think you have to do that for me. Okay?” It felt like a melodramatic speech he would have given as a teenager. “You don’t have to do anything alone.” 

Remus clamped his eyes shut, praying that when he opened them, he would have his Sirius back. Praying that he would find James and Lily, alive and well, victims of nothing but a simple misunderstanding. He’d never been religious, maybe that’s why his prayers didn’t come true. He wasn’t greeted with a miracle, he was greeted with a knock at the door, even as his wards went undisturbed.


End file.
